"As you can see Mr. Ashe, the proposal we've outlined introduces your company to the buyers of today. We've included print, radio, and television venues in our plan. It is sure to bring your company to the forefront of every 18 to 25-year-old's mind. Feel free to take the presentation materials home to review and we can schedule--"

"Not needed."

He didn't even give her a chance to finish.

Ember turned her attention to Mr. Ashe and focused on his chin. She'd blundered and made eye contact when he'd introduced himself. She would not make that mistake again. Jacob had to intervene on her behalf and showed Mr. Ashe to his seat while she stared at him, mouth gaping wide.

Blue. His eyes were blue like an early morning sky as the sun begins to rise. She was mesmerized. She didn't say a word, didn't move a muscle. All she could do was stare at the darned man with her mouth hanging open. Of course, it wasn't just his eyes that attracted her. Oh no.

Paul Ashe's face appeared to have been chiseled from granite by Michelangelo himself. His patrician features with the hard angles of his cheeks and how they connected with the firm lines of his jaw, all flowing to his strong chin, reminded her of an ancient Roman warrior.

Then, he smiled. Geez-o-pete, she'd never seen a smile light up a room. Sure, she'd read about plenty of fantasy men. Their glaring white teeth, perfect bodies and model-like ability to always look handsome, even after riding through a downpour in the middle of Scotland's highlands, but she'd never witnessed anything like that. Until now.

Mr. Ashe had shaken her hand. She remembered that now as she stared at the tiny scar on his chin and wondered where he'd gotten it. Of course, her thoughts didn't stay on his chin for long, not when she had his broad shoulders and sculpted chest to think about. Not long after he'd taken his seat, he removed his jacket and leaned back in the executive chair while she began her spiel. His shirt was far too tight for her comfort and showed off every muscle on his chest and abdomen. Every, single, one.

Lately, she hadn't spared a thought for men, any man, but now her neglected libido was rearing its ugly, horny, come-fuck-me head. Thoughts of rolling around in a sweaty tangle of limbs with Paul Ashe occupied her mind while she tried to focus on convincing him to take the materials home, to give Ellason Advertising a chance.

What good was Ember Ellason to the world if she couldn't land one single account? Heck, why was she even attending college at night, trying to get her degree in marketing if she couldn't convince the man to take home one binder of information?

She dropped her shoulders, accepting defeat. "I understand, Mr. Ashe--"

"No, apparently you don't." His tone was clipped, sharp and angry, as Claudette often sounded. Ember couldn't hide her instinctive twitch when he stood. She had to remind herself that Jacob sat only feet away. Mr. Ashe wouldn't strike her for whatever mistake she'd made with someone else present. At least, Claudette never had. "Ms. Eagerton, I won't be taking the materials home because I've made a decision."

She opened her mouth to speak, but she wasn't sure what she was going to say. On one hand, she wanted to correct his assumption that she was Clementine and on the other, she wanted to beg him to reconsider their firm. She closed her mouth and didn't do either.

"I'd like Ellason Advertising to represent my company. The ad campaign you've outlined is perfect."

He stuck his hand out and she slid her fingers over his palm before wrapping them around his hand. Goosebumps rose along her arm and she fought the shiver racing down her spine. Heat and an immediate attraction assaulted her. With a gasp, her attention turned to his face. She had to see his reaction. Was he as affected by the touch?

Without a doubt, he was. His eyes widened, his pale blue irises deepened to almost black. Yeah, he felt the tremor course through her hand and he answered with a twitch of his own. Her breath caught as they continued to stare at one another. She knew she'd been avoiding his eyes for a reason. His grip tightened and he flashed that darned perfect smile again, making her powerless to look away. Her knees felt weak and she couldn't resist the soft tug on her hand, which brought them closer together.

His smile, still wide and dazzling, never faltered as he whispered two words which nearly sent her into a dead faint. "You're perfect."

She swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat. Perfect? Not hardly. Chubby, fat, even obese by some people's definition, but perfect definitely did not describe her. True, she always tried hard to look her best. Today happened to be one of her "pretty" days where her wayward auburn curls behaved and the outfit she wore hugged in the right places and flowed in all the curvier areas.

When the heat of her blush hit her cheeks, Ember tugged her hand free of his and turned her attention to straightening the meeting materials.

Jacob jumped into the conversation then and saved her from further embarrassment. "Yes, we think so as well, Mr. Ashe. Um, Em, is by far the woman for the job. We at Ellason Advertising are thrilled to handle your company's business and look forward to implementing our plan."

The two men continued to talk while she got her feelings under control. Her hands shook as she straightened the sample materials. Lord, she'd never been looked at like that. Men gave her a cursory glance and nod when she asked them what they'd like to drink, coffee or water, as they waited for Claudette or one of her two daughters. But her? Ember? Never.

Ember was invisible to everyone. Being invisible is how she'd survived in the Ellason-Eagerton family. Being noticed meant ... well, it just wasn't good. Not good at all.

Her sweat dampened fingers stuck to the ad copy and she wiped her palms on her skirt, hands shaking with every movement. Her nerves that she'd kept at bay from the moment she found out she'd be giving the presentation were now making themselves known. She needed a drink. A long, tall, hard drink of Mr. Paul Ashe ... No! She needed a quick shot of something strong and she'd be fine. She most definitely did not need anything beyond a signature from Paul Ashe. Nope. No sweet, tender kisses or long nights of sweaty sex needed. No sir. Nope. Not at all.

Of course, all thoughts of why she should have wild sex with Mr. Ashe vanished when she regained her composure and turned back to the two men. Yeah, he was covered in muscles from head to toe beneath his expensive suit, but it was his eyes and his smile that reeled her in. She really needed to remember to stare at his chin.